


A Comprehensive Checklist in the Care and Keeping of Superheroes

by justahufflepuff



Series: Care and Keeping 'Verse [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Team Bonding, Team Fluff, it's a crackfic I promise you, the feelings are a lie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justahufflepuff/pseuds/justahufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson has seen many weird things in his life. It comes, he supposes, from the nature of the job. Hard to join an ultra top secret government agency responsible for hiding and protecting the identities and interests of superheroes and not see some weird ass shit. The Chituari didn't even take the cake. An invading alien force and a mind-controlling demigod didn't even make the top ten. Like he said: weird ass shit. It takes quite a bit to faze him these days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Step One: Find the Lynch Pin

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a text fic, and will update when I can. Slash when I've got enough to make a chapter.

When he opens his eyes for what feels like the first time in months, he finds Fury lounging on the single guest chair in the Spartan SHIELD Medical quarters. Phil knows better than to expect Clint and Natasha splayed against each other and sharpening their weapons. They don’t have that kind of clearance. For them people who die stay that way. So he knows better than to expect them, but the loss of them still aches like a phantom limb.  
  
"I'm assigning you to Avengers Tower." Fury says.  
  
"Sir."  
  
"Things have changed while you've been out."  
  
Coulson barely bats an eye. He expects that much.  
  
"It has come to my attention that a more...human aspect has become necessary in the Tower."  
  
"Romanov and Barton bring that, sir."  
  
"That's not what I meant, Coulson." Fury sits up and that's when Phil knows he truly has no choice in the matter. "Like I said; things have changed. The Avengers are a team. They work cohesively in the field and fight like a well oiled unit."  
  
"Why do they need me, sir?"  
  
Fury stands up. The conversation has run its course. "You're the lynch pin. Ms. Potts will pick you up upon discharge. Your things will be transferred then as well."  
  
He leaves in a swirl of dark cape and long, commanding strides. Phil blinks. Looks like he has a new home.  
  
Pepper picks him up from Medical while the team is out thwarting today's special brand of evil. Judging by the explosions and the long streak of flame through the sky, Phil pegs it as a Doctor Doom sort of morning. Stark must be thrilled.  
  
"Nice to see you again, Phil." Pepper's voice is all warmth and welcome as she hugs him hello and he thinks that she must not have been informed of his death. He's never questioned Pepper's clearance before but now all he can only wonder what Stark doesn't tell her.  
  
He just smiles and throws his small bag of personal affects in the back of Happy's truck. Pepper is dressed to kill, and there must be a board meeting because he's seen Nat kill a guy using heels that tall, but he doesn't know what to say to her.  
  
He settles on: "It's good to be back."

"Tony would've outfitted a floor for you, but I'm under strict orders to keep your arrival a surprise."  
  
Phil doesn't fancy having the job of giving Pepper Potts 'strict orders' to do much of anything. He has seen the other side of her frankly astonishing CEO glare and has heard Natasha wax poetic about her potential while drunk and curled up with Clint. If anyone could keep the secret it's Pepper Potts.  
  
Instead all he says is: "It's good to be back."  
  
Pepper barely even quirks an eyebrow.  
  
He's let off at the Tower and it's only after Happy has whisked Pepper away to rule the financial world with an iron fist that Phil remembers he never got new access codes.  
  
He types his old one into the keyboard JARVIS supplies and isn't surprised when a crisp voice surrounds him.  
  
"Welcome back, Agent Coulson. I must admit this is... Unexpected."  
  
Phil walks through the door as it slides open and heads for the elevator. According to Pepper he's floor 18, right between Clint and Natasha, but he requests the floor the Avengers use a central hub and JARVIS complies.  
  
"Agent Coulson,"  
  
"Phil, please." If he's going to be living here indefinitely best remain on good terms with the omnipresent help.  
  
"Phil, shall I alert Sir to your presence?"  
  
"They're still in combat?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
While Phil doesn't yet know Stark and the others like he knows his beat up copy of _A Song of Fire and Ice_ , he knows Nat and Clint. The last thing they need is that sort of distraction mid battle.  
  
"No, I don't believe now is the opportune moment." He pauses as the elevator dings and swooshes open. It opens into a living room entertainment center and Phil isn't surprised, he's really not. The space screams Stark: sleek, elegant, pricey; but he can see traces of the rest of them littered carelessly about the room. "JARVIS?"  
  
His eyes catch on one of Clint's older practice bow in the rafters, Natasha's third favorite knife driven deep into the windowed wall. A sketchbook that must be Captain Rogers sits on a side table alongside a pair of reading glasses that Phil can't place so surely belong to Banner. This is his team; these are his assets. "Can you patch me into the comm without Stark noticing?"  
  
It's doubtful, a long shot, but the sound of their voices would put him at ease.  
  
JARVIS answers after several long beats. "I believe that could be arranged."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Soon the long familiar sounds of comm static and battle white noise fill the room. Coulson sits down in the couch, moving a pair of pants that look suspiciously like Thor's, and begins shuffling through the Welcome Back from Dead, Clearance Level 7 paperwork Fury has left him with. The over-comm chatter isn't protocol, and appears to serve as a running banter between Stark and Clint but it lets Phil know that at least they're still safe enough to talk smack. Soon they've move on to bitching out Reed Richards and as Steve barks a request for radio silence and Thor gets reminded once more about Proper Commlink Voices, Phil smiles.  
  
He hears them before he sees them. It's well after midnight so the joint debriefing must have taken longer than they thought. They're bickering about movies and Richards (again). JARVIS cuts over their chatter.  
  
"Sir, there is something you should know."  
  
"Give me a minute, JARVIS. Come on, Bruce there's no way that you really think Eastwood-"  
  
The elevator reaches the floor. Phil straightens up.  
  
"Sir, I really must insist-"  
  
Six superheroes file out into the family room.  
  
Natasha sees him first. Two of her favorite knives have his hands pinned to the couch by the lapels in his very expensive suit in seconds and really he should've expected this. Before Stark can protest, an arrow buries itself in the wall centimeters from his head and his lap is full of angry archer and Natasha paces right behind him, long and lethal.  
  
"Load bearing walls!" Stark yells behind him. "What have we said about load bearing walls?"  
  
But Phil knows when the rest of them spot him sitting there, because he can hear the whir of the gauntlets aimed over Clint's shoulder straight at his head, can hear Thor's bellow of rage and Captain Rogers sharp intake of breath.  
  
"What kind of sick joke is this?" Clint's voice is angry and sharp against his ear.  
  
Speaking isn't going to help him so he stays silent and keeps a steady eye on Clint and his circling assassin.  
  
"Who would have the gall to perform such trickery? The Son of Coul has long since joined the warriors of Valhalla."  
  
"How did it get in here?" Stark demands. "Someone's bypassed all of JARVIS's systems."  
  
"Clint, tie him up."  
  
Under other circumstances Phil would love to hear those words out of Captain Rogers mouth.  
  
Clint growls. "Don't think this thing deserves the honor, Cap."  
  
"Sir," JARVIS's cool tones sound like a life vest thrown Phil’s way. "My protocols were not tampered with."  
  
He can't see anything other than a majestically furious Clint, but he can hear harried typing.  
  
"Agent Coulson used his access code, and I allowed him access. Miss Potts-"  
  
"Pepper?" Stark's incredulous.  
  
"Miss Potts drove Agent Coulson over, Sir."  
  
"Phil, please, JARVIS."  
  
The cold metal of a gun presses into his neck and Phil sighs. "Stop talking." Natasha orders, smooth and soft into the ear not dominated by the harsh, hot in and out of Clint's breath.  
  
"Perhaps we should all calm down." Bruce offers. "There's an explanation for all of this."  
  
"Cree, perhaps. Some sort of Hydra clone. One of Loki's tricks."  
  
"No, he's genuine." Stark says, confused. "JARVIS doesn't let anyone up this high without a DNA scan, voice and eye rec, and speech patterns. Things no imitation can fool."  
  
Clint makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat and Phil aches.  
  
"JARVIS," Bruce says. "Can you call Director Fury? If it's really Coulson, Fury will know."  
  
An omnipresent phone dials. Fury picks up on the third ring.  
  
"Stark, how the fuck did you get this number?"  
  
"Did you tell them I was coming, sir?" Phil asks and the safety clicks off on the gun.  
  
"What do you think I am, Coulson, your messenger pigeon?"  
  
The gun in Natasha's hand slackens slightly.  
  
"This is the real deal, Fury?" Stark asks.  
  
"Work through your own damn problems, Stark. And don't kill my best senior agent. I'm not bringing him back twice."  
  
The line goes dead.  
  
"It's really him, then." Rogers says. "You're really Coulson."  
  
"In the flesh."  
  
"I'm not convinced." Clint says. "Tell me something only Coulson knew."  
  
"The wound Trickshot gave you hurts in the winter and the snow, Budapest is your least favorite city, Natasha is not the only target you failed to kill, and you sleep with a teddy bear you hide under the bed." The words came out low and clear so only Clint and Natasha could hear them.  
  
Clint goes slack with relief and for a moment he buries his face into Phil's now thoroughly wrinkled shirt. If there is the slight pressure of lips to fabric, no one says anything about it. "It's him." He proclaims as he slides out of Phil's lap at last.  
  
"Welcome back, Agent." Bruce smiles. "Would you like some coffee?"  
  
"Black, two sugars." Natasha answers for him and there's a hint of curve to her lips as she folds Clint into her arms and sets off for the stairs.  
  
Stark wolf whistles after them as Rogers looks resigned.  
  
"It's good to have you back, Agent Coulson."  
  
"Aye, your presence among us has been sorely missed by all." Thor slaps him on the shoulder and Phil will feel that for a week.  
  
"I'll put the coffee on." Bruce says as he moves towards what must be the kitchen.  
  
"Helping! Coffee is good. Coffee is excellent, it's exactly what I need I've got this idea-" Stark doesn't meet his eye as he leaves the room. Phil hardly expects him to. Emotional displays were never really Stark’s style.  
  
"No, Tony we've talked about this, no coffee past 1 AM." Rogers follows Stark out the room and Phil slumps back on the couch.  
  
For now, the worst is over. They don't trust him yet, and they shouldn't, but the worst is over. He's home. From the couch he can hear most of their voices, and if he's to be the lynch pin then he best get used to the chatter. He falls asleep within minutes.


	2. Step Two: Feed Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting the Avengers up before 3 on a Sunday ought to be considered an act of the gods.

Sunday mornings Phil sits on the couch and fills out the truly unsanitary amount of paperwork that the Avengers require. Thor has, yet again, broken another aisle in a grocery store. Tony's attempt to solve the problem by buying the entire store has Pepper calling him up to complain about billionaires and how buying companies doesn't solve anything. In the last three weeks, Phil has watched Tony proposition Pepper for at least four different companies. He understands now why Pepper is the most terrifying person on the Forbes Top 50 CEOs list. Phil may have a taser but he's no Pepper Potts and if he has to explain to Tony one more time that he can't just buy Kellogg's he is going to do something violent and uncalled for.  
  
Natasha dumps herself gracefully onto the couch besides him and Phil quirks an eyebrow.  
  
The Avengers as a whole seem to have an unspoken pact: Sundays are not a day for the living. Honestly New York should consider itself lucky to have at least three teams of superheroes on call at any given moment, because getting the Avengers up before 3 pm on a Sunday is what Phil would graciously consider an act of god. It doesn't even matter what they have or haven't done the night before. They sleep like they're frozen in time and no amount of frying bacon or gentle coaxing will change a thing.  
  
Yet it hasn't even pushed 11:30 and Natasha has sprawled herself into the corners of his person space, languid and blurry at the edges in a way that exactly four people on earth have ever seen her. She cracks her back against the edge of the couch and turns on the TV.  
  
She's unarmed, Phil can tell in the way she holds herself, and it's the biggest show of trust you could get out of Natasha. He knows that she's got half an arsenal hidden throughout the tower and enough in this room alone to take out anyone serious about invading, but now there's nothing on her body but clothes and she has always been the most beautiful woman Phil has ever known. Half smiling he presses a kiss to her cheek and she twitches in approval before settling on some Japanese game show.  
  
"How can you have that much already?" She asks, though she's not actually glanced at the slowly shrinking pile of red tape and legalese.  
  
"Most of it is backlog. A thumb print reading coffee machine?"  
  
"Clint's idea. Stark approved, and now we have a coffee machine that knows what you want before you do. Bruce is calling it Xavier."  
  
"Asking for one group of colleagues we have not somehow insulted was too much, wasn't it?"  
  
The corners of Natasha's mouth raise just barely and the on screen audience dies of laughter as a man fails to eat a marshmallow in spectacular style. "Then I guess I shouldn't tell you what Clint has renamed his favorite bow."  
  
Phil sighs.  
  
They sit in each other’s silence and need nothing else. Eventually Natasha grows tired of the over the top Japanese games and channel surfs to her heart’s content. She never stays on anything long and Phil gets the ever-shifting background noise of Natasha's morning boredom. By the time she's settled on some cartoon with a talking dog Phil has started to get hungry. None of the others are up yet and he debates getting up to cook for just the pair of them. Natasha has always tolerated his cooking-- he does breakfast food better than Clint--but for the most part he tries to stay out of the kitchen, and any semblance of their old, worn-in routine would feel more comfortable than he knows how to describe. Just as he makes to get up, Captain Rogers enters.  
  
"Heard the TV." He offers and he's got art supplies tucked under his arm.  
  
Phil remembers that Rogers drew during the war, and has a few questionably acquired sketches secreted away. Yet he hasn't quite processed that Steve might still draw. "Sit down," Phil replies and gestures towards the parts of the couch not occupied by his paperwork. "I don't bite."  
  
Rogers’ eyes flick between Phil and Natasha, sitting just close enough to raise eyebrows. Nat doesn't sit this close to anyone but Clint. If Rogers puts any dots together he doesn't voice them. He just sits down and makes himself comfortable.  
  
The sound of Steve sketching mixes in with the TV and shuffling paperwork so well that Phil almost forgets there's more than one person in the room. It's the first time he's seen any of the team spending time outside of battle or the post debrief wind down. The gesture registers in the back of his brain and he tucks it away.  
  
It's almost one by the time his hunger grows unbearable and he stands up.  
  
"I'm making pancakes," he announces to the room at large. Rogers looks up, startled, and Natasha rises to join him.  
  
"Smell of the batter will have Clint down from whatever air vent he's slept in," she says and a crease forms between Coulson's eyes. If Clint's sleeping the vents it means he doesn't feel safe here. "He'll want hash browns."  
  
"Are you trusting me with potatoes now?" he asks, wry.  
  
Natasha's look is answer enough. "I'll make drinks. Steve, can we put you in charge of an entree?"  
  
Rogers nods and they all head to kitchen at once.  
  
It's more space than Phil could ever imagine someone needing in a kitchen, but it gives them room to work. Natasha and Rogers set up shop near the fridge and the fruit bowl and Phil begins familiarizing himself with the pantries. For the most part dried goods seem thin on the ground, but he has enough to work with and there are eggs and a few vegetables in the mostly bare fridge. It takes this breakfast to make him realize how much they must eat takeout.  
  
He's combining everything into a large bowl when something presses against his forearm and hums.  
  
A floating coffee machine whirs at him and Phil realizes this must be Xavier.  
  
"The report didn't mention it could fly." Phil says.  
  
"It increases service." Natasha grins.  
  
"I've found it's best to just let him make you a cup." Steve adds as he chops fruit with startling efficiency.  
  
Three cups of coffee are brewing and the griddle's heating on the stove when Clint stumbles in wearing nothing but Hawkeye boxers. This earns him an appreciative look from Natasha and a heavy sigh from Steve.  
  
"Put on some pants please, Barton." Rogers says.  
  
"I'm already wearing ‘em, Cap." He grins, pausing to smack a kiss on Coulson's cheek and shamelessly steal batter from the pancake bowl. "Where are the hash browns?"  
  
"Make them yourself." Natasha says.  
  
Clint is serenading them with Sinatra and shredding potatoes when Bruce arrives. The doctor takes one look around and runs a hand through his hair. "Looks like I'm making eggs."  
  
Xavier the coffee machine whirs happily at the sight of Bruce and floats over to his side, refusing to leave.  
  
Phil wonders when this became normal for his life.  
  
Natasha wants everything out on the table at once so Phil has put a hold on the pancakes. Xavier has made them all another round of coffee and he hovers in a way that's almost judgmental until everyone has taken a drink.  
  
Thor arrives as the hash browns make their way into a skillet.  
  
"Excellent! A feast. Exactly what a warrior needs in the morning." He's grinning and Phil doesn't even want to see what's wearing, he really doesn't, because he has recently discovered that keeping Thor clothed is a battle.  
  
Instead he rearranges the stovetop as Clint protests and says: "We could use some bacon."  
  
It's a miracle they all fit in the kitchen without getting in anyone's way.  
  
Rogers looks up from his finally completed fruit salad and says: "Where's Tony?"  
  
"Sir is in the workshop." JARVIS answers. "Shall I send Miss Potts down to retrieve him?"  
  
Steve glances around the kitchen and nods. "Yeah that'd be swell JARVIS."  
  
Steaming food is getting stacked high onto plates when the sound of Stark and Pepper's voices rise to greet them.  
  
"I ate like, I don't know, but I've eaten Pep it's not a big deal and I'll shower tomorrow but the Mark-"  
  
"No Tony, you'll eat now. The suit can wait."  
  
They round the corner and Stark blinks at the sight of the whole team piled around the recently untouched dining room table.  
  
"It's not three yet." Stark mutters and Phil's lips twitch. "Pep you'd tell me if I worked through an entire weekend, right?"  
  
"I'd try." She replies. "It's breakfast, Tony."  
  
Natasha sweeps past Stark on her way to the table and presses a smoothie in his hand.  
  
"What's this?" Stark asks.  
  
Nat raises an eyebrow. "A smoothie."  
  
Stark still eyes it like it's the bomb he dropped into another dimension and gives the glass an experimental sniff.  
  
Clint laughs. "Just drink it, Stark. Your special bot hasn't even touched it."  
  
"Dummy's not special." Tony shoots back but he takes a drink.  
  
"On the contrary sir, you have called Dummy special no less than 20 times this week."  
  
Stark shrugs, shoulders tight.  
  
"Sit down, Tony." Bruce's voice is gentle and he's not even looking at Stark as he takes more bacon and strokes Xavier's shell. "Otherwise Thor will eat all your food."  
  
Thor looks entirely unrepentant. "The man of iron seems perfectly capable of retrieving his own meals."  
  
Somehow that works and Phil finds himself surrounded by a table of superheroes and a CEO.  
  
Soon Thor and Clint are tossing each other food across the table, each trying to outdo the last catch. As far as Phil can gather, the goal is to get both Natasha and Pepper to laugh at the same time. Banner has a notebook out, and around the shorthand notations and mass of numbers Phil can see two small tally counts. Sitting at opposite corners means Rogers and Stark don't have to look at each other but Phil catches their eye contact ping pong. Looking, not looking, looking, not looking, all down the barrel of a gun if their faces were anything to go by. Nat has a week’s worth of papers in front of her and she's filling out crosswords with an intensity she usually saves for political assassinations or marathons of America's Next Top Model. Pepper has paperwork spread out in front of her. Neither woman is paying attention to the men as Clint turns around, closes his eyes and still manages to land a piece of bacon right in Thor's mouth.  
  
No one speaks. Clint and Thor have started up a low running stream of increasingly filthy smack talk, but no one says anything, not really.  
  
It's not an awkward silence, it's not even a tense one, but Phil knows enough to recognize a room full of people who don't quite know what to say to each other without an immediate goal or situation at hand. They're a team and they're friendly, but they're not quite friends. He can tell in the spaces left between chairs, the way everyone holds themselves just a little ways apart.  
  
Clint hoots and pumps the air as Thor takes a back dive from the table and swallows a whole pancake in one bite. He makes himself a crown out of bacon and bows to a grinning Thor.  
  
Captain Rogers looks torn between amusement and severe disapproval. "Didn't your parents ever teach you manners, Barton?"  
  
The tentative peace drops like an atom bomb, as does the smile from Clint's face.  
  
"Don't think manners were very high on the list." He replies. "Well, I'm full." Clint retreats.  
  
Phil sets his coffee down.  
  
Natasha doesn't smack Rogers, doesn't even look at him as she leaves. The crossword is half finished.  
  
The room empties. Rogers doesn't ask what he's done. He can figure it out.  
  
The Avengers aren't friends.


	3. Step Three: Watch Them Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not like Coulson hates inter-league cooperation. Honestly he's all for it on several different levels. Builds trust, heightens the sense of community outreach, spreads out the paperwork. But sometimes he wants to take joint missions and shove them up Fury's ass. This is one of those times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long to get up, friends. Nothing like the combination of November and December to slow down creativity with actual work. 
> 
> The next chapter should be light on the feels and heavy on the hilarity, so you've got that to look forward to.

It has gotten to the point where Coulson categorizes the villains they fight by how much they personally annoy him. He knows Stark has them ranked by who they force him to work with, and Nat keeps a log of which ones give her the biggest challenge. But for Coulson, it's the number of times the vein above his eye starts ticking. Anything tied to the Fantastic Four guarantees more trouble than it will ever be worth. Spider-Man's villains bury him in post-op meetings. But the X-Men means he has to listen to Summers and Stark have it out over the comms. It’s a headache he could very much do without. Not as bad as Stark vs. Reed, but his tolerance for pain medicine is running dangerously high. Someone (usually Thor) will eventually bring up Jean Grey, and it's just a downhill slope to chaos from that point on.

Magneto has once again made a power play of upstate New York.

Phil gets it, he really does. The mutant population deals with the sort of oppression and discrimination everyone likes to pretend ended in the sixties. Erik Lensherr has been personally wronged by civilization at every point of his life. Destroying upstate New York always gets the right kind of media attention for The Cause.

But by god if he makes it through this battle he is going to need an ocean of bourbon. And he's going to charge it all to Logan directly. It's his fault they always get tied up in these things. Next time the Wolverine asks if his part time gig with the Avengers means he can pull a few favors, Phil is printing him off a transcript of this comm link and walking away.

“All I’m saying,” Tony says as he catches a goon in the chest with a repulsor blast, “Is that if you’re going to have an army of super cool mutants, they should be able to handle this shit themselves.”  
  
“We’re not an army, we’re a school.” Summers replies and Phil is just grateful that the man hasn’t blasted Tony straight out of the sky. 

“A school full of _super cool mutants._ ” Tony says like Summers has entirely missed the point. “You have laser eyes, Summers! You know how much I would kill for laser eyes?”  
  
“No names on the comm!” Steve tells them. Both men ignore him.  
  
“Believe me, I would to kill you _with_ these laser eyes, Stark.”

"Shadowcat," Phil snaps, rubbing his temples while resisting the strong, growing urge to throw something. "Please stop walking through the Hulk. You can get to Juggernaut some other way." 

"Sorry, Agent." She doesn't sound it at all.

"Black Widow, on your nine!"

Coulson watches as Natasha whips to the left and jabs her titanium knives deep into the sides of one of the Brotherhood lackeys.

A building next to Thor creaks and groans, one of the supports wrapping the god tight around his waist and squeezing. No amount of lightening is going to get him out of this one.

Phil’s team is desperately outmatched. Clint can't even use his arrows; they're all metal tipped and no use here. They have him perched on a skyscraper calling out openings. Openings that Stark hasn't taken because he can't get close to Magneto either. He, Shadowcat and the Hulk are dealing with Juggernaut while Cyclops takes on Nightcrawler. The Hulk only gets angrier as Juggernaut takes everything thrown at him, and Phil reminds Clint to have the tranq arrows ready. Phil hasn’t seen Mystique yet but just because he hasn’t spotted her doesn’t mean she’s not here. The only Avengers that seem to be getting anywhere are Steve, who throws his shield at just about everything he sees and barks out orders no one can follow, and the power duo of Black Widow and Jean Grey who at least seem to be making some progress.

Two oceans. Logan owes him two oceans of bourbon for this.

"By the way, Summers, there is no way you've not tapped that." Star says as he watches Jean Grey turn half the Brotherhood’s weaponry against itself.

If Tony can’t stop digging himself into holes, Phil is going to dig him one personally and it’s going to six feet deep and no one will blame him.

Logan growls as he slices Thor out of the skyscraper's clutches. "Watch it, Stark."

"She's not a piece of meat, you're disgusting. How do you even have a girlfriend?"

Coulson pinches the bridge of his nose and resists the urge to remind them all he's sleeping with a woman fully capable of killing them all with her thighs. They've only been on site an hour but he needs aspirin so very badly.

"We've got a situation, Stark." Clint's voice comes out sharp in the way that means actual trouble and Coulson scans the monitors instantly to make sure he's still safe.

Clint is fine. Without his arrows and no one around to beat senseless, he's no threat and the Brotherhood knows it. The trouble lies elsewhere.

"Iron Man," Rogers sounds pained. "A little air support?"

Somehow in the midst of half the team forgetting to their job, Nightcrawler has managed to wrap his arms around Cap and has him in a bearhug. Not exactly threatening, Coulson knows it would take the man about three seconds to get out and knock Nightcrawler flat; it's more the fact that Nightcrawler has them both on the top floor of the Chrysler Building, right there on the edge of the eagle. No amount of super serum would reconstruct him from a splatter on the sidewalk.

The debrief is going to be absolute hell.

Stark swears and automatically takes to the sky.

Something isn't right about this and it's not the fact that a blue man with a tail currently has America's sweetheart dangling above near certain death. Rogers isn't fighting. He's squirming a little, certainly, but there's no real effort in it. It's not like he's scared of falling but almost as if... As if he trusts Nightcrawler not to drop him.

Which doesn't make any sense, but then Coulson catches a glimpse of a shield on the monitors. It's two blocks away and Steve would never leave it there unattended. There's a gloved hand just almost reaching for it and-shit.

Clint must have spotted it too because he's got an arrow in his quiver before Phil can remind him of all the ways this is a horrible idea.

They have gotten rusty. He's been back for two months and they are rusty, so very out of tune and Iron Man reaches Nightcrawler just as Clint looses the arrow from his bow and starts swearing up a storm. Mystique wraps her legs around Tony's waist and twists before he can get his repulsors aimed at her body, and Nightcrawler lets go of his mother to stab two long knives in between the slates of the Iron Man armor. Clint's arrow hits Mystique in the shoulder but the damage is done. Nightcrawler has Mystique but no one has Tony. The repulsors are failing, whatever control Tony has slipping from him. Nightcrawler must've cut something important with those knives.

"Thor," Coulson says and that's all it takes to send the god hurtling in Tony's direction.

Scott and Shadowcat move in to deal with the two Brotherhood members and Coulson can hear Scott calling Professor X for backup.

"You really have to call him, doesn't he just know?" Tony asks and if Logan knocked him out the moment Thor put him down Coulson wouldn't even blame him. 

Things are not going well Thor and the Hulk. Natasha has left Jean Grey to deal with the others and has Juggernaut's head between her thighs and he's only slowed marginally. Thor hovers above them, throwing Mjolnir at Juggernaut every chance he can get. The Hulk throws punches where ever he can and bellows, but Coulson can see things starting to veer south. Nat's got her spider bites on full blast and two knives in her hands, hacking away brutal and efficient. She gets Juggernaut good but he snatches her off him all the same and throws her against the steel wall, hard.

Coulson feels the breath go out of her, because it's left him too and Clint makes a frantic noise and she groans and slumps down. She's hit something very wrong if she's not getting up and Coulson can't take his eyes off her to watch Hulk go beserk with rage and smash Juggernaut through several layers of sewers.

"Hawkeye," he rasps. "Tranq Hulk before the city sues us for damages."

"Sir-" he wants to get to Nat, Phil knows this intimately, knows the way they always have each other's 6, but Natasha is not his only worry right now. She's just barely moving and swearing in Russian, so he knows she will recover. "Tranq him Hawkeye. That's an order."

"Yes sir." Clint spits the words out and he'll have a couple of angry assassins in his bed later, but it's done. The Hulk slumps to the ground, asleep.

"Wolverine, I'm pulling my team out."

Tony doesn't even protest. He must've seen Steve.

"Right," is the only response that Logan gives but Coulson barely notices.

He has superheroes to care for.

 -

All in all, Coulson has experienced better car rides. Clint and Natasha sit on opposite sides of him as he plays Switzerland to their England and Germany. Tony and Steve aren't much of an improvement; using Bruce as a border while they not subtly gauge each other's wounds. Bruce, for his part, has thrown his arm over his eyes and fallen asleep. They'll have to recalculate the serum again, he's been groggy ever since he woke up human in a pile of rubble. Coulson can feel grey hairs starting to inch their way out of his skull. Maybe he can sue Fury for emotional damage. Somehow he doubts it. SHIELD probably has fine print just for handlers, all aimed at this sort of shit. 'No legal damages can be pursued for job related aging'.  
  
By the time he reaches the Tower, he figures there has to be some sort of loophole around that clause. Steve has that pinched look on his face that usually preceded a blow out fit and Tony produces alcohol from somewhere under one of the seats and refused to share. Natasha isn’t much better and she spent the last half of the ride not talking at all. Phil has counted exactly five grey hairs and the vein above his eye has started going haywire. The first thing he has scheduled for tomorrow involves that ocean of bourbon and a shit ton of cuddling. Because anyone who claims to not like cuddling is lying, and Clint is the most glorious human affection leech he has ever met. After that he's going straight to legal. Phil has already died once. He doesn't have time for this shit. He really doesn't.  
  
Security barely even blinks as they stumble through the back doors that lead to the personal quarters, despite the fact that Natasha can't use her left arm ("it's just numb stop hovering I'm not a child"), the Iron Man armor has entire chunks missing completely ("It's always the blue ones, I swear to god I just refinished the paint and everything") and Captain America can't walk unsupported ("thanks Bruce you really don't have to carry me the whole way"). Phil decides he really doesn't want to know why this doesn't faze them. Happy gives them a nod as they enter the elevator and he thinks that maybe Stark Industries security team has a special training course on not reacting to serious bodily harm. He'll have to ask Pepper later.  
  
Clint is somehow the only member of the team to come out of this op completely unharmed and for once he's not gloating about anything. Instead he has this pinched look on his face and an arm anchored around Natasha's waist. It says something for the current team mentality that Tony hasn't cracked a single inappropriate joke about it and that Natasha hasn't pulled away.  
  
"You need medical." Clint tells her.  
  
"It will heal just fine on it's own." She retorts as she leans into his side.  
  
"No it won't Nat, for fucks sake."  
  
"This argument sounds very familiar." Phil mutters.  
  
"Don't you dare take her side on it, sir." Clint hisses and he only calls Phil 'sir' when they're at SHEILD or on ops. "Someone threw her into the side of motherfucking steel building. I can feel the bruises on her side and she's holding herself like she's broken some ribs."  
  
Natasha purses her lips, testy. Phil gets it. SHIELD Medical will want to keep her overnight. It was a bad enough op that all Phil wants is this gorgeous pair in his bed, as unharmed as they ever get. Natasha does not admit these things in public but he can tell she feels the same.  
  
"This tower has a medical bay." It's less of a question than a statement but JARVIS answers anyway.  
  
"Fully operational and waiting for Sir and the team."  
  
"Good. We will all stop there for basic clean up, and head over to SHEILD tomorrow morning."  
  
Tony opens his mouth to protest.  
  
"I saw him knife you, Stark." His voice brokers no room for argument. "We are all going."  
  
Natasha sighs and Clint slides a grateful hand into Phil's for just a brief moment.  
  
By the time they get out of Stark Medical it's almost dark. JARVIS has ordered them all pizzas and Phil requests that the ones for Clint and Nat get sent to his room as well. Tony feels well enough to wolf whistle and Phil lets him.  
  
Phil comes back to his room to find his bed pushed into a nook in between the wall of bookshelves and filing cabinets, and the one that leads into his ridiculously expansive walk in closet. He's positive this is Tony's way of apologizing for his death and welcoming him home all in one. The nook fits his king sized bed perfectly, and unless he points it out to people they never notice it's there, shadows masking it from all sides.  
  
"Brought the food." Phil says brandishing the pizza boxes.  
  
"Thanks, sir." Clint says from the bed.  
  
"How many times am I going to have to ask you to call me Phil in the bedroom before you listen?"  
  
"At least once more, sir." Phil can actually hear him smirking as Natasha makes an impatient noise in the back of her throat.  
  
"Food?" She asks.  
  
"Thought you weren't hungry." Clint grumbles.  
  
Natasha doesn't deign that with a response yet somehow they devolve into worn in bickering anyways.  
  
He loves them so much in this moment, in every moment really. After shrugging off his work clothes and pulling on a tee shirt and boxers he crawls into bed.  
  
Natasha and Clint are tangled together in the middle of the sheets but Tash wriggles out of Clint's grasp to kiss him once before taking the pizza box from his hands. Clint squirms his way between of them, and he's always most affectionate after missions like this, the lower part of his body slung across Phil as he leans against Natasha. It takes a bit of adjusting and readjusting before they're all comfortable, Nat steals blankets like Clint steals kisses, but soon they're a coordinated pile of tangled limbs and synchronized breathing.  
  
Phil switches on the TV and Clint insists they watch The Little Mermaid and sing along. It makes Nat heave a heavy sigh and push him into Phil's lap but she's not fooling either of them. It's her favorite and she sings quietly to every song, eyes closed and completely relaxed.

-

Clint wakes them up.

Or rather, Phil gets woken up by the sensation of getting clipped in the jaw and Natasha wakes up to the sounds of terrified in and out breathes and limbs scrambling against the sheets. They both snap awake, and Clint is writhing between them, trembling and wild eyed. Natasha swears in low Russian and they retreat back to the headboard to give their archer room to breathe.

"Clint baby," Natasha's voice is low and soothing. "Can you tell me where you are?"

"What color are my eyes?" Clint rasps, voice hoarse as if he has been screaming for hours.

"Can you tell me where you are?" Natasha repeats.

"My eyes, my goddamn eyes, what color are they?"

"They're grey, little hawk. When you are with me they are always grey."

Clint twists on the sheets to stare at Natasha, hands gripping the bedding so hard that his knuckles have turned white. "Is that what you know? Is that what it's shown you?"

Phil can tell by the way that Nat holds herself this is not the first time she has had this interaction.

"Yes, Clint." She says and his shoulders slump.

Nat moves to hold him in her arms and Phil follows her lead. They cradle him like he is the most precious thing in the world.

"He's not in your head any more." Natasha promises.

"I did horrible things." Clint mutters into her shoulder. "Sometimes I can remember doing them. I'm there but I'm not and I've done so many things.”

"Go back to sleep, bird. The past is the past."

"I killed people, I killed our people."

"Sleep, Clint." Phil says, lacing his words with authority as he clings to his lover.

Eventually Clint obeys.

Phil watches Natasha. "This happens often."

"Not as often as it used to. The past is the past. You were dead then."

Natasha drifts back to sleep as well. Phil does not. 


	4. Step Four: Craft with Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are certain parts of this job Coulson doesn't think he'll ever get used to. This is one of them.

The thing about a Tony Fight is that you don't often know you're in one until you're neck deep and hurling insults that would make a Marine cringe. They tend to sneak up just when you've gotten comfortable and suddenly the house is reeling with the sharp commanding silence of two people furious at each other. It leaves the air metallic and off kilter. Ground zero for a Tony Fight sprawls over several floors and the entirety of his lab. 

There's never much of a guess as to who Tony is trying so desperately to push away. In years past it was Pepper, but these days it's almost always Steve.

Steve who tries so desperately to make the group of well-trained superheroes into a team. Steve, who Phil knows for a fact sleeps as little as Tony, for reasons more similar than either man will admit. 

It's a weary sort of cat and dog, frayed around the edges and burning from the center.

Phil can hear the shattering silence as soon as he walks into the kitchen. Xavier is nowhere to be seen. He imagines the coffee machine has followed Bruce. The air ducts remain simply air ducts, no archers crawling out to wrap their arms around him and kiss noise back into the room.

The others must be downstairs, then. Natasha is out on an op, and Pepper has flown to Los Angeles for a board meeting.

There's no point injecting himself in a tense situation, so he takes the elevator down to the floor that belongs to Bruce. Making a beeline for the largest and most Hulk proof of the labs, he's greeted by the titters of lazy, hazy laughter.

"And then he said, I shit you not Bruce he said, 'I think I'm going to need more ducks.'"

The warm sound of Clint's delighted laugh meets him as Phil opens the door.

Bruce is sprawled out across his largest lab table, pupils blown wide and eyelids drooped down. Clint has himself flopped across Bruce, his head towards the door and his legs kicking idly at the table. It’s the most comfortable he’s seen the archer since he’s moved in. Phil knows better than to be jealous.

Upon catching sight of Phil, Clint's face lights up. He drums his fingers against the table and wiggles.

"Phil!" Clint says, grinning. The delight in his voice makes Phil feel gentle. "Phil, remember that time with Jasper and the ducks?" 

"How could I forget?" Phil replies as the door _shicks_ shut behind him.

Clint dissolves into delighted giggles.

"You realize it is illegal to smoke marijuana in the state of New York?"

Bruce waves a lazy hand, clearly unaffected by this statement. "We're not going anywhere, Agent Coulson." The doctor gestures towards a softly blinking light over the door Coulson has never noticed before. "The lab's programmed to keep me distracted until the uhh …situation has passed."

Coulson blinks. He knew that Tony took care of the team in his own unique ways: a Cap-proofed gym, wide air ducts and hiding places for Clint, a concealed weapons room for Nat, but he hasn't thought of what might put Bruce the most at ease. It's a nice gesture. He wonders if Bruce asked for it or if Tony simply knew.

 "Tell 'em, tell 'em what we're gonna do, Bruce." Clint says.

"We've been trolling through Pintrest," Bruce begins and that's more than enough to make Phil reach for the antacids. The last time anyone had 'trolled through Pintrest' they had ended up with automatic sorting shelves and a self-aware coffee maker. "And we saw all these, these uh-"

"Flower crowns!" Clint interrupts, still wriggling like a very lethargic worm.

"These flower crowns and well-" 

"We're gonna science, we're gonna do some science. Stick one on Tony and prove that Cap cannot stay angry in the face of some really fine daisies." 

It is probably a bad sign that part of his brain whispers that it’s not actually that bad of an idea, that he’s definitely heard much worse. Maybe it's just prolonged exposure to Stark and Barton, but he's definitely heard worse.

"I don't see any flowers." Phil notes, sitting on the table across from them.

"Xavier and JARVIS are having them delivered. Well, JARVIS is having them delivered. I think he called the coffee pot along for emotional support." Bruce says as if this is completely normal. For them, he supposes it must be.

"Also pizza. I'm gonna eat so many pizzas." Clint says, his voice wistful. 

Phil hums. "I was wondering where Xavier had gotten off to." 

"He wanted to help." Halfway through his sentence Bruce yawns. Faced with a docile middle-aged man talking in all seriousness about flower crowns, it's difficult to remember he also does time as the Hulk. "Well I assume he does. Lots of whirring and a few cups of black coffee."

There are several empty cups on the counter that back this statement. Phil moves them to the sink. 

If Xavier thinks that black coffee equates helpfulness, the poor thing has clearly spent too much time around Bruce and Tony. Which would also explain the proclivity towards adding espresso shots to all their drinks when his little AI brain thinks no one’s not looking. 

Phil smiles and allows himself to relax. The sharp silence from the upper floors seems to have dissipated. At the very least the air in the lab is heavy with weed and warm laughter rather than stress fissures and tension. It's a welcome change, one he's grown used to over the last few weeks.

A small part of him considers snapping a picture of his boyfriend to send to Natasha. She wouldn't get it until she returned to the Tower, but it's a cute image none the less. It probably means he’s going soft. He doesn’t care. It's nice to see Clint so relaxed. Besides his phone could use a new background.

Before he could follow through on the thought the doors to the lab _woosh_ open and Xavier whirs in. The coffee machine has acquired himself a small posse of hover trays laden down with a myriad of fake flowers. There's a small heap of fishing wire, super glue and pliers on the rear hover tray. Phil wonders exactly how many flower crowns they think Tony needs.

"Excellent!" Clint crows sliding himself off of Bruce's chest to rifle through the flowers. "Thanks, JARVIS."

"Happy to be of service. Next time, may I request you order less baby's breath? This order will be difficult to write off as a mission expense."

For the sake of the team report, Phil is going to pretend he did not hear that. "I would like it on record that I didn't hear that, nor did I consider its implications."

"It's for the best," Bruce says wisely. Phil notices the way he very purposefully doesn't glance at the rows of test tubes in his incubator and promptly works on forgetting that as well.

"Flower croooowns," Clint sings, (actually sings, in his deep baritone that Nat has always held a fondness for) shaking his hips as he gathers supplies into his arms. "I'll make you one too, Phil."

Bruce quirks an eyebrow, gesturing for a whole hover tray before plopping down in the middle of the floor. "Coulson, you're in charge of pliers." He says before rolling up his sleeves.

"Hey, hey JARVIS," Clint says as he tugs on Phil's pant leg. "Call up Pintrest!"

"And if you could put on The Decemberists, please JARVIS?" Phil adds as he lets himself get dragged to the floor.

"It would be my pleasure."

_July, July!_ filters through the room. It takes a moment before Phil realizes both Clint and Bruce are staring at him, amused.

"What?" Phil asks picking up the pliers and the fishing wire.

"Nothing, boss." Clint snickers, but he promptly collapses against Phil's side so the man figures any perceived wrongs been forgiven.

"Tony's first." Bruce says after a moment. The doctor gathers a fine selection of ostentatious flowers around him and they set to work.

Soon Clint is sitting on top of a light fixer yelling color suggestions and Bruce is in front of the incubator attempting to do science as he calls out patterns and weave ideas. Phil gets left in the center of the room with a stack of increasingly precarious crowns on his head, carrying out the actual manual labor. Every now and then Xavier floats over with another cup of Bruce's special blend of soothing tea. The scientist calls it his pacifier, everyone else (including Pepper) refers to it as the: Thou Shalt Not Destroy the Tower blend. It works, in Coulson's opinion, better than ever expected.

He doubts he'll be able to get any sleep tonight, and if he does he'll dream of fake flowers, but for now it doesn't matter. 

"Make me one the color of your eyes." Clint croons, batting his eyelashes and laughing. He's teasing, Phil knows it, but he calmly gathers shades of light grey and blue anyways.

"Aww, sir, you don't really have to-" Clint swings his legs like he's about to jump off the light. 

"No jumping." Coulson says without looking.

"Ground rule number 3." Bruce calls over his shoulder. Something in the incubator poofs and he curses.

"Whose side are you on, Banner?" Clint asks.

"The side responsible for my Sunday pancakes."

Phil's phone goes off before Clint can respond. Only three people have this number. As one is in on an op in an undisclosed location and the other is sitting on a light, it narrows down the options. 

"Care to explain why America's sweetheart is inciting terror in the members of my newly refurbished, _very_ expensive training gym?" Nick Fury says into his ear.

"So that's where Steve went." 

"Coulson." Fury sounds about five hundred different shades of displeased. 

"I cannot actually stop him from leaving the Tower when he wants to." Coulson weaves three flowers together.

"Do you know how many new punching bags I have to purchase?"

Coulson knows what Steve is like at the gym. It's better now than it was before he joined the Avengers, but it's still bad. "I'm guessing too many."

"Damn right it's too many. He’s made three junior agents cry already. Three of them.”

The image of Steve making anyone cry doesn’t quite mesh in his brain. He must have an odd look on his face because Clint pokes him and makes questioning noises in the back of his throat.

“We’re talking about Steve Rogers?”

“We're talking about Captain America. Apparently not everyone’s accustomed to the sight of projectile punching bags. He hit one so hard it almost broke the drywall. JARVIS sent me a memo about Stark being ‘too compromised’ to finish his consultant work. My office. Now."

He hangs up before Coulson can reply. 

"What's the boss want, boss?" Clint says, chuckling but concerned.

"I believe I'm about to be placed in time out." Phil replies, tucking his phone back in his pocket. 

Bruce looks vaguely guilty. "We've been very safe." He says.

That's not saying much coming from a man who "safely" subjected himself to gamma radiation. Phil doesn't mention that part. 

"It's about my other pair of miscreants." 

"Tony's in trouble?" All things considered Clint has no right to sound so gleeful either.

"Surprisingly, no." Phil says, gathering his things and standing up.

"You're heading out?" Bruce asks. 

"Yes. And I think it would be prudent if you both came with me." 

Bruce opens his mouth to protest, takes one look around his lab, and seems to think better of it. He fiddles with the incubator and replaces the tubes before struggling out of his lab coat (on backwards). "Lemme just find my glasses."

"On the table next to the newspaper." Phil straightens his tie. "And no jumping!"

By the time they reach the New York field offices, Bruce has given the taxi driver and the doorman both flower crowns and advised them in whispers to: keep it secret, keep it safe, while Clint has managed to buckle both himself and Phil into the same seat. Their cabbie barely even blinked. All things considered, Phil supposes the man has seen far worse. It is tame compared to some of the Quinjet rides and practically a walk in the park considering the times he's watching Hawkeye travel via Norse god. Plus nothing's exploded yet. Really that's more than he hopes for on a day to day basis.

They walk into SHIELD twenty minutes later. The fact that both of his charges are still higher than kites should worry him more than it does. They are at least semi-responsible adults. Throw yourself off a building long enough, Phil figures, and you get a certain amount of leeway. 

Clint has slung himself over Bruce like a clingy three year old, and Bruce keeps up a running stream of jokes that would make even Stark blush. Briefly Phil considers stopping by labs and checking up on Jemma, Leo and the team he almost had. He'd love to see the pair meet Bruce, wants to know if Clint would like his other set of nerds. But he's currently not interested in disobeying a direct order from Fury. Another day, perhaps.

He walks with purpose towards the elevator.

"Can we give one to the Calvary?" Clint asks, referring to the excess flower crowns that Bruce keeps pulling out of nowhere. "She taught me about Phil's trading cards."

"May's based in DC now." Phil says before addressing the elevator as a whole. "Fury's office."

There's a brief pause as the elevator checks their clearance. 

"About damn time." Fury is lounging behind his desk as they arrive. "I was beginning to think I hadn't made myself clear."

"I can't actually stop Tony from picking fights." He replies. 

"You're in Avengers Tower to help diffuse the situation. It was deemed so important you got passed over for your own team."

Coulson doesn't even bat an eye. "It seemed best to let the situation defuse naturally."

He's toeing the line and he knows it. 

"The Avengers are SHIELDs first line of defense in New York." Fury says. "We need them in prime fighting condition. They cannot do that if they don't trust each other. You are supposed to help them foster that trust, Agent Coulson." 

Somewhere behind him Phil can hear Bruce and Clint arguing in whispers. As long as they're not lighting a joint in Fury's office, he doesn't care what they're saying.

Fury an eyebrow. Both the eye and the eye patch give Phil a look. "You brought Banner and Barton?"

"It seemed unwise to leave them alone." 

"Am I missing something, Agent?"

"I think it's best you maintain plausible deniability."

Bruce and Clint choose this moment to break apart. The scientist gives the archer a bit of a shove, and then Clint swaggers his way over to Fury's desk. Both Phil and Fury eye him as he plops himself down in the director's lap and drapes a blue and green flower crown across the man's head.

"It looks lovely with your eye, sir." Clint says, smile serene.

There is a beat of silence throughout the room.

Fury takes a deep breath. Then two. 

"Get your archer off my lap, Coulson." He says.

Phil gestures for Clint, immensely glad for the fact that his boyfriend's an asset. Bringing people back to life costs a fortune.

Bruce snaps a picture on his phone.

"This meeting never happened." Fury hasn't taken the flower crown off yet. Phil thinks he might be trying to wish it away. 

"What meeting?" Phil replies, standing up as Clint clings on like a koala.

"And collect your wayward Captain on the way out!" Fury says. There's the click of a lighter as the door shuts behind them.

"Think Agent Hill wants a flower crown?" Clint asks Phil's shoulder.


	5. Step Five: Cover Their Ass(ets)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil's weekly lunches with Pepper are a godsend. Except, of course, when there's unexpected company.

About once a week, Phil closes his eyes, bows his head and thanks the good sweet lord for the truly terrifying competence known to the world as Virginia Potts. These tend to be the same days that Pepper walks into the Tower, spends some time talking business at Tony, hugs Steve (because someone has to) and then takes Phil out to lunch. After Sunday morning brunches and the inevitable Tuesday night Steve Education session, lunch with Pepper is the highlight of his week. 

Phil is sitting in the kitchen, watching Thor attempt to fit four Poptarts into the (so far non-sentient) toaster. The demigod is wearing one of Steve's shirts (Phil can tell because Clint wrote: ‘please call life alert if I fall’ on the back) and chattering happily about life back on Asgard. His deep voice lilts in unexpected places, left over speech patterns from the home he misses dearly. Phil listens to every word, considers the fact that despite their deep mutual respect, he knows very little about Thor. Perhaps he ought to change that. While Clint and Tony crack enough jokes to keep things right on the border between crude and delightful, Thor has the tendency to make things jovial with nothing but his booming laugh and a misused idiom. 

(No matter how hard they try, they just can't seem to get Thor to use the right idiom at the right time. It's lead to a couple of awkward press conferences, but mostly it just makes people laugh.) 

Thor's halfway through an animated explanation of bligesnipe hunting when Steve and Clint walk in. Clint has been tasked with picking this week’s movie. Phil knows because he's heard all nine steps of Clint's master plan to somehow force Tony into enjoying Star Wars. The whole thing hinges on Steve's enthusiastic participation and two extra large bags of popcorn. Not the best plan Clint has ever come up with, but certainly not the worst. This scheme, at least, Phil is allowed to speak of openly in public. (Assuming that public doesn't include Tony Stark.) 

"Just tell him it's on the List." Clint tells Steve. 

"It is on the List." Steve says and the smug look that inspires out of Clint looks far too much like Tony. 

"Excellent! You know how he feels about the List."

Steve looks an all too familiar combination of fond and exasperated. Phil recognizes that expression. It's one of Clint's specialties. 

"Ah, my brothers in arms!" Thor says as he turns to greet the others. "What activities do we have planned today?"

"Hopefully nothing involving the destruction of the Tower. We're still paying off the expenses from the Chitari incident."

Phil hadn't heard Pepper come in.

"Nice to see you again, Miss Potts." He says, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

"Phil," her returning smile feels warm and completely genuine. "Hope you don't mind that I'm early. Tony's asleep on his workbench. It's significantly harder to talk patents with him that way." 

"Not at all." He replies as he tidies the newspaper lying forgotten in front of him. "I'm just about ready to head out."

"Wonderful. I hope you like Thai."

"Replacing me already, Sir?" Clint's voice cuts in. 

"Getting new archers is a pain." Phil says as he gets up, patting Thor on the back. "Besides, Kate Bishop already declined once." 

Clint squawks, all wounded bravado, and Phil lifts an eyebrow. 

Pepper shakes her head, the smile that comes from working for Tony Stark playing the corners of her lips. "You better be here when I get back, Rogers." She says in lieu of a goodbye. "I still need to get your feedback on that new drawing program."

"Yes m'am." Steve says before tapping a pouting Clint on the shoulder to draw him back into conversation. 

"I should warn you," Pepper says as they pull up in front of the restaurant. They only do Thai when one of them needs some serious cheering up. "That I may have mixed business and pleasure this week."

Phil raises an eyebrow. They're not exactly prime examples of leaving their work at work. More often than not their conversations cycle back to the Avengers. At least two Stark Industries contracting deals have gotten drawn up at one their lunches. Nothing has actually needed it's own disclaimer before. 

A car up besides them and Reed Richards steps out. 

That explains it. 

"Reed," Peppers voice stays warm and welcoming. "I'm sorry Tony can't make it today. We have a big announcement coming out soon, he's been quite busy."

"I didn't think Tony worked at the company any more." Reed says as he hugs her. 

Phil doesn't step forward to greet him but they exchange polite smiles. 

"No, but you know how Tony gets. Won't release anything he's not proud of. I hope you won't mind Agent Coulson joining us. He can speak for the Avengers and I'll speak for the company."

"Oh, of course. Nice to actually see you for once, Agent Coulson. Hope you don't mind if I call the shots today." 

He gives Reed his best bland unassuming agent smile and lets Pepper do the real work.  
Pepper has this way of smiling people into complacency and then ruthlessly bettering the state of her own company while they still think they're winning. She works with efficiency that rivals Maria Hill, and Phil suppresses the shudder at what the two could do if left to run a company together. It's terrifying in all the best ways but for the moment it's not what he needs to be focusing on. Texting Tony to call him a traitor seems petty, yet when Reed and Pepper turn to head into the restaurant he does so anyways. It doesn't help the budding headache behind his temples but it does make him feel a little better. 

"So, tell me more about what exactly you need from Stark Industries, Reed." 

Reed smoothes back his hair, reaches down into his bag, and pulls out a large file of blueprints and Excel sheets. 

Phil orders the strongest drink they have and two servings of Pad See Ewe. They're going to be here awhile. 

"I know there are risks, but I think the general benefit outweighs them." Reed says earnestly more than an hour later. 

Pepper's face gives nothing away, but judging by the way her fingers tap a rhythm into her purse, Phil reckons she's just as done listening to Richards as he is. 

It's not to say that the inter-departmental communication and transportation device Reed has written up schematics for wouldn't be useful, it would. Phil can't count the number of ops he's run for the Avengers while wishing that New York's superhero forces had some sort of coherent protocol for each other. Honesty, the thing would be damn useful. JARVIS, while intuitive, tends to make the X-Men edgy. Apparently something about having more than one British accent in their heads feels un-American. The real problem lies in the energy source Reed insists upon.

"Reed," Pepper says gently. "Stark Industries deals with many forms of energy, but matter taken directly from space isn't one of them."

Phil very politely doesn't mention that last time Richards messed with space; he gained the ability to act like a human rubber band. Instead he takes another drink. By now it's less of a drink and more glorified ice water with hints of bourbon. The headache hasn't gotten any better. But it has at least decreased the number of times he’s resisted the urge to rub his temples. (Namely in that he’s stopped resisting.)

"I realize that, Miss Potts." Reed says as he leans forward. "But Tony's out of town, judging by his message machine-" Pepper's lip twitches. "And I wanted to see if he wanted in. Figured I ought to go directly to the source of things. All messages that go through you get to him."

Pepper's smile is bland and dangerous. "I'll be sure to pass the message along. Sorry that Stark Industries couldn't help you today."

"Didn't think it would work, anyhow." Reed sounds casual, like spending last hour and a half pitching them a frankly absurd product helped him pass the time in boring days. "Agent Coulson, what do you think?"

His phone buzzes. The incoming text from Tony reads: 'I am no such thing. Reinforcements on their way.' Better late than never, Phil supposes. 

"Agent Coulson?" Reed asks again, looking concerned. 

Phil looks up. "I'm not actually authorized to make SHEILD contracts. High profile requests run through Agent Hill." 

Not entirely true, but Maria has a way with superheroes. 

Reed doesn't look terribly deterred. His mistake, really. 

"Well I will have to get in touch. It's good to have people already in the loop about my project. I think it could really do this city some good."

Phil blinks. "It does sound helpful." He keeps his voice diplomatic. 

Reed smiles, wide and excited. 

"Sorry to bother you," Steve's says from somewhere behind Coulson. "I've been told we need Coulson back at the Tower."

"Is everything okay?" Pepper asks, half rising out of her seat.

Steve ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. "No one's hurt." He assures her. "We just need Agent Coulson to help... Defuse a situation."

Almost in unison, the entire table's eyebrows go straight up. 

Someone at a neighboring table looks at Steve with interest. 

"Actually Pepper," Steve says. "You may be able to help." 

"I thought Tony was out of town." Reed says even as he gets out of his seat to accompany them. 

"He is." Pepper lies. 

"Don't worry, Doctor Richards. We just have some, uhh, new arrivals that Coulson knows, and they've taken a bit of a, uhhh, liking to Clint's apartments."

Phil raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t remember any sort of memo about visitors. But Steve looks back at him, wide-eyed and earnest, and Phil wonders how often Captain America lies and gets away with it.

"I'll help talk things down." Pepper promises. "Steve, would you mind keeping Reed company on his way home? Sorry to cut things short on our meeting, Reed." 

Before Reed can reply, Steve smiles warm and sincere. "I'd love to. Tony says you're a scientist." He says to Reed. 

"Yes, and I would actually love to talk with you about some theories I have." Reed turns his attention to Steve.

Pepper throws down the money for the bill plus a hefty tip. "Let's go home, shall we?"

"Did it work?" Tony demands the moment they step inside the lab. He doesn't look at either of them, but Phil catches the way his body angles itself towards Pepper, how his fingers stop drumming a frenetic beat into the arc reactor. Pepper loosens in response.  
The tight line between her shoulders vanishes without thought, her steps fall softly as possible in 4 inch heels. Back together, they're at ease. Phil wonders if they've noticed. 

"Throwing Steve at Reed seems a bit unfair, don't you think?" Pepper says as she puts down a take out bin full of drunken noodles on top of schematics for some sort of jet. 

"Tall, Glistening and American volunteered. Better him than the back up plan."

Pepper raises an eyebrow. 

"Doctor Banner, Miss Potts." JARVIS supplies as it becomes increasingly obvious Tony would rather eat than answer.  
"Tony."

"What? Bruce seemed fine with it. They could talk science." 

Phil laughs. He's not sure what talking science would look like between Bruce and Reed, but now he rather wants to find out. 

Still, Phil can tell Pepper doesn't quite share his amusement. "I'm not really sure it's wise to-" 

"Son of Coul!" Thor says, his voice preceding him as he rounds the corner leading to the lab. "Your archer has instructed me to summon you. He says he is readying himself to regale us with acts of acrobatics and bravery."

Tony's face lits up as Thor enters. "Circus tricks!" Looks like Tony's finally done his research then. "Excellent, I've been waiting for those. Come on Pep, free Cirque de Barton." 

Something in Phil's stomach eases and unknots. He's missed the acrobat displays. It's been awhile since Clint's peacocked like this. The archer must finally feel comfortable. Next thing Phil knows he'll start bringing home strays. Hopefully Clint will stick to dogs this time, and not KGB assassins- no matter how well that worked last time. 

As Tony animatedly explains the concept of circuses to Thor, they head upstairs to where the rest of Phil's odd little family waits. 

Everyone besides Clint (who's busy balancing one handed on top of the tv) sits jam packed onto one of the smaller couch. Thor and Bruce act as bookends, with Pepper in the middle. Natasha has her feet tucked against Pepper's side, posture relaxed and concentrating on solving Phil's suduko before he does. 

"Aww Nat, come on you like this one." Clint says. 

He does something presumably life threatening and impressive that Phil doesn't watch. 

"So I want to ask why Clint's on top of the tv?" Steve asks as he walks in. 

"Performance art." Phil replies. 

The noise Steve makes is understanding, so he must've gotten through the modern art section of his list. 

"How was your time with Reed?" Nat asks as she writes 4 into one of the squares with a defiantly red pen. 

"He's a very complex thinker." 

Tony snorts. 

"But he's not nearly as bad as you make him seem, Tony." 

The look on Tony's face suggests that Steve had just told him the entire tower had just caught fire. To Phil's surprise, so does Bruce. 

"Reed Richards is a dick." Tony says vehemently, with the sort of zeal and passion most people reserve for prayers and football games. 

"Tony-" Steve says, disappointed. 

"Oh no, no. This is not an argument. I have a PowerPoint. There are slides just for this purpose. Pepper tell him there are slides."

"There are." Pepper confirms. 

"He can't possibly be as bad as you make him seem."

"There are better people in the world." Bruce says, lips tight. 

"See, even Bruce thinks he's a dick. I cannot believe you even- this needs immediate- Bruce?"

"To the lab." Bruce agrees, following Tony's aborted train of thought without trouble.

Clint back-flips off the TV as Bruce and Tony half-manhandle half-lead Steve back into the elevator. 

"Anyone game for some awful B-movies?" Clint asks as he settles down on the arm of the couch. 

"I'll call for pizza." Pepper says. 

Natasha hums in agreement as she finishes the suduko. 

The days Pepper takes him to lunch, Phil decides as Clint attempts to get Pepper to let him braid her hair, always win.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](http://enjoltush.tumblr.com)


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